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The Secret to How I Caught the Attention of a Rich, Older Man: Part 1

May 17, 2013

I had just got­ten out of class, and was headed to one of my part-time jobs at a local restau­rant. I was run­ning late, so I was dri­ving a bit more errat­i­cally than I usu­ally do. As luck would have it, I didn’t get too far before being pulled over by a cop. I didn’t have time for this, so I pulled down my shirt to show a lit­tle cleav­age, and men­tally pre­pared myself for some seri­ous flirting.

The offi­cer was about six feet tall and looked like he was prob­a­bly in his 40s, with hazel eyes and curly brown hair—he was a hand­some man, to say the least. When he approached my car win­dow, I bat­ted my eye­lashes a lit­tle, and used the sweet­est voice I could muster up to talk my way out of this ticket. It didn’t work as well as I thought it would have, because he slapped me with hefty fine. My day was offi­cially ruined—or so I thought.

I finally made it to work 10 min­utes late, and I was not in a good mood. The restau­rant was emp­tier than usual, and I spent most of the night kick­ing myself for being care­less enough to get a speed­ing ticket. It didn’t help that the tips that night were beyond lousy, prob­a­bly because my ser­vice was less than mediocre. At around 11 p.m., one of the other wait­resses came over to tell me that a cus­tomer was request­ing me per­son­ally. She pointed to a gray-haired man wear­ing a suit, sit­ting by himself—he must have been at least 60. I rolled my eyes and pre­tended to shoot myself in the head with my fin­ger. This was the last thing I needed.

I braced myself for the witty ban­ter that I was going to have par­take in. “I’ve been watch­ing you since I got here,” he said. “Why does a young, beau­ti­ful woman like you look so mis­er­able tonight?” I ignored his ques­tion alto­gether and asked, “What can I get you, sir?” I had a feel­ing this old man was just look­ing for some­one to talk to and my shift was over in an hour—I really couldn’t be bothered.

“I’ll take any beer you’ve got on tap, and 24 bone-in Buf­falo wings. And keep ‘em com­ing,” he answered. I turned to walk away, but he wasn’t fin­ished— “And a smile from the pretty lady to brighten up both our days.” Sur­pris­ingly, his com­ment actu­ally worked, because I found myself smil­ing from ear to ear. He rec­i­p­ro­cated with a warm smile. I wasn’t really sure why, but all of a sud­den, this old man became a lot more intriguing…